THE PROTEGE III: Protect and Defend
by Alpha Ori
Summary: Summary: the Spring Equinox Festival is well under way, but today, not all is well in fair Imladris, and Legolas rides to battle, and danger.
1. Chapter 1

The Protégé III: Protect and Defend

Summary: the Spring Equinox Festival is well under way, but today, not all is well in fair Imladris, and Legolas rides to battle, and danger.

CHAPTER ONE

It was a wonderful spring morning, again. 'Was the weather always this perfect?' It certainly wasn't in the Greenwood. There, they suffered brusque changes in temperature, the seasons harsh and abrupt; sometimes it was pleasantly warm, others it was windy, or icy, raining, or all at once. Yet here, - it was a marvel to behold, and a serum to his battle-hardened body and soul.

Taking a deep breath, he savored his last few seconds abed, and then lifted himself, strolling onto the open balcony and opening his mind to the forest's hum. Today however, the answer he received was somewhat tepid. Straining his senses a little further, he cocked his head to the side, listening for anything that would give him a clue as to the disquiet of the forest. All was calm, but there was a hesitance that he was puzzled by, almost as if there was some kind of distraction hindering their routine morning blessings. He would have to stay alert during the day, for it was not clear to him whether this 'distraction' was good or bad.

He was to train together with his warriors today, after his morning spar with Melven, of course. Even when at home and not patrolling, the warriors would train in full battle gear once every two or three days, for the added weight they carried made the task much more difficult, and allowances had to be made for the bulk they wore on their backs and at their sides. However, half of them had been granted a one-day leave of rest, and tomorrow it would be the turn of the other twelve. Legolas, however, gave himself no rest, and therefore, neither did Galdithion nor Henian.

Walking back inside, an almost undetectable frown on his face, he dressed in brown, form-fitting leggings and a black leather skirt and jerkin. Finally, he pulled on his heavy boots and vambraces, thus completing the ensemble. He would arm himself after breakfast.

At the table, he was conveniently seated next to Mithrandir, with whom he wished to speak, for he needed someone to be alert to the possibility of strife during the day – he knew he could count on the wizard to trust him implicitly, without the accompanying, time-consuming questions. He would simply ask later and take his word as truth.

As the plates began to emerge from the kitchens, he piled his plate high, as he had done every day since his arrival. Glorfindel and Elrond watched him fondly, now understanding why he ate so much - you couldn't maintain a body like that without a high-protein diet. Erestor, however, was just as shocked as he had been on the first day, and something akin to amused distaste would flitter over his face and just as quickly disappear. And yet their lover seemed unusually subdued and distant this morning, and so Elrond resolved to speak to him after breakfast.

Legolas, now sipping on a hot tea, to which he had become partial, caught the wizard's gaze and cocked his head slightly towards the door, a gesture that was perfectly understood. Finishing his own breakfast, he stood and bid a good morning to the lords, accompanying the prince out into the morning sunshine, followed by the intrigued eyes of the lords and lady at the head of the table.

Once outside, Mithrandir flanked him and looked at him inquisitively.

"What is it?" he asked urgently, moving closer to the prince.

"There is something amiss, Mithrandir," said Legolas, unburdening himself to his fellow protégé, "The forest is hesitant this morning. I cannot say what it is, but I have learned to never discard these feelings. It may be nothing, but I need someone to be alert today. I have many duties to perform, but I will be on my guard, I thought to tell you - in case something should happen", he said, as he turned to peer at Mithrandir. He needed to know if he had expressed himself clearly enough – he had, for the wizard returned his regard intently, giving the prince a first glimpse of the power that resided behind the old man's eyes.

"Rest assured, my friend. I will be with you during the day. If you sense something, call out to me, I _will_ hear you."

Legolas knew not _how_ he would hear him, but also knew better than to ask for the details, he simply assumed that it was an integral part of what the maia was capable of.

"That puts my mind at rest, Mithrandir. I will do as you say", he said. "I must leave now; my presence is required with my troops. Let us hold to hope that the day will be peaceful".

"Indeed, fare well, Legolas", said the wizard. He had heard the prince's words, but he had also picked up the undercurrents - Legolas was nowhere near convinced that the day would be peaceful, not at all, but then, neither was he, and in a swirl of gray, Olorin disappeared into the trees.

….

Elrond had not had the chance to speak to Legolas, for he had left with Mithrandir before he could summon him, and so he worked with Erestor on political issues in the Library, for after today, the activities would turn to the question of alliances. Glorfindel spent the morning in his own, somewhat neglected office, for since Legolas' arrival, he seemed to have accumulated an inordinate amount of parchment. Galadriel and Celeborn sat out in the morning sun, enjoying the days of peace and conversing on frivolities such as fashion, gastronomy and gossip, cider-brewing and the likes.

Legolas trained with his warriors, but the feelings of disquiet had worsened. He had delegated command of his unit to Henian, and was now pacing around the perimeter. It was a physical sensation he still hadn't accustomed himself to, for so strange was the sensation – it was as though his inner body, his nerves, his muscles and organs, were being drawn out of him, through his skin, as if some force were drawing him forcefully to a destination he was unaware of. Finally, he could take it no more and moved over to the nearest tree within their compound. The strange sensation dissipated as he placed his palm over the trunk, closed his eyes and listened.

Galdithion was watching, as was Henian. He stood stock still, a look of utter concentration on his frowning face. And then - there it was, his eyes suddenly opened, they were a brilliant green as the prince's face crumpled into one of agony. Galdithion ran over to him but knew better than to break the connection. Meanwhile, Henian barked out his orders, for he knew what would happen next - it was lucky for them all that today they had been training in full battle gear.

"Warriors, to me, form the line, this is _not_ a drill!" he barked.

So fierce had been his voice that a number of civilians passing by had stopped to see what the commotion was about, for they had been startled.

Legolas by now had crumpled to his knees, still touching the bark, the veins in his neck sticking out as if he were choking. He finally let out a gasp and yanked his hand away from the tree, turning his misty green eyes to his guard.

"There is a large incursion on the eastern border, there are civilians and _elflings_ in the immediate vicinity –they are in danger" he said as he came back to himself somewhat.

Rising to his feet, he barked out his own orders to his startled troops, anxiously trailed by his guard.

"To the stables, collect your arrows and mount, we ride _now_!" As he ran with his warriors, he called out to Mithrandir…

Elrond gripped the side of his desk. The room span as his conscience wandered to a copse of trees. Anxiety welled from the depths of his being, threatening to mutate into full-blown panic, but the feeling was quelled by years of experience with foresight.

"What is it, Elrond? What's wrong?"

"There is danger on the border…"

Before Erestor could further interrogate his lord, a commotion played out in the courtyard below, and Elrond moved ungracefully to the balcony, trailed by his worried councilor.

Horses were being pulled urgently out of the stables, the aids still strapping on saddles and bridles as the steeds pranced nervously, spying their warriors flying down the path as they adjusted their belts, bows and swords, hair flying behind them, eyes searching for their mounts.

Other elves were strapping bails of arrows to the archers' saddles, others holding the horses still as their riders jumped up and seated themselves in one stunningly agile move.

A thunderous voice screamed out orders, which Erestor was astounded at, for it had come from Legolas below. Charging out of the courtyard at a full gallop, the unit of 13 woodland warriors harkened to the agony of the forest, leaving the on looking Imladrians to stare after them, utterly dumbfounded.

Just then, Cormionran into the library, having sprinted from the courtyard.

"My lord," he exclaimed, between deep gulps for air, "thirteen of the Greenwood warriors are moving out to what seems like trouble of some sort, I could only discern from one of the warriors that Legolas bids Imladris follow them with all urgency!"

"Did they say how many?" he asked frantically, assuming it would be orcs.

"Nay, for the warrior knew not, I have no more details my lord!"

"Run, Cormion, find Glorfindel and ride out after them".

And with that, the captain was gone, Elrond and Erestor themselves sprinting down to the lower floor and out into the corridor, where they were met by Mithrandir.

"Elrond, it is urgent, the incursion is large and there are civilians nearby, we must ride out now."

"Gods no," cried Elrond. The school outing was today - their lesson on forest craft", he added, turning his desperate face to the wizard as he clutched his frayed sleeve. "There are ten elflings out there with two tutors, and what border guards may be alerted to the danger."

Mithrandir bowed his head in dismay, turning again to Elrond and laying his hand on his shoulder.

"I will ride out with Glorfindel. May the Valar help us!" And with that, he ran to the stables.

There he was met by a beehive of activity, as the Imladris warriors saddled up in the wake of their Sylvan brothers, still pulling on their protective clothing. Glorfindel barked out his orders sternly.

"Cormion, move down the line, Elladan Elrohir, to me, Melven!"

"Yes my lord," replied the lieutenant. "You ride at the fore".

Melven's eyes lit up, he was being given a second chance, and he was overjoyed.

"Yes, my lord!" he exclaimed eagerly, mounting up in one swift movement, empowered by the thrill of recognition.

Finally ready to move out, they trotted from the stables into the courtyard, where Mithrandir waited, already mounted, his staff in one hand.

Elrond stood on the stairs. Catching his general's eye, he saluted as Glorfindel charged out of the courtyard at a furious gallop, his fifty warriors behind him and a maia beside him.

"May the Valar protect you both" whispered Elrond as he turned into the protective gaze of his chief councilor, who steered him indoors to wait out the moment.

As the company galloped out, following the trail left purposefully by the Greenwood vanguard, Mithrandir moved abreast of Glorfindel.

"What can you tell me?" shouted the general.

"Legolas alerted me to the danger. All I know is that there is a large incursion on the eastern border, I know not how many. I also know that there are civilians in the area, _children_, Glorfindel."

Glorfindel could only frown desperately, how had this happened? Would the border patrol be aware of the danger?

However, Melven's face had crumpled, for the only programmed outing was that of his son's school. He had regaled his father with all the details just the night before, bristling with nervous energy at being out in the wilds, learning forest lore.

He turned his desperate face to his general.

"My lord, 'tis the school outing, my _son _is with them."

"And you know their location?" asked Glorfindel.

"I do."

"Then lead the way, Melven, guide us to them".

And that he did, taking the lead he pushed his charger to the limit, the rest of the warriors right behind him, their faces grim yet determined, for Melven was not the only father among them.

….

Greenwood was closing on the area, and Legolas held up his hand signaling a halt.

Wheeling his horse round to face his warriors, he spoke.

"We know not how many we face, only that there are thirteen of us, and around ten civilians to protect. I want you in the trees now. Once our arrows are spent or the enemy too near, we engage on the ground, on my order. We will approach with caution as they may not be aware of our presence; this will give us the upper hand. We attack on my signal, is everything understood?"

"Aye" they whispered fiercely.

Close to the edge of the copse now, Legolas whistled another stop – there was a rancid stench in the air, and the trees wailed their dread to those that could hear them.

Two maids supervised the exuberant children, and all seemed totally oblivious to the danger lurking on the other side of the copse. Unfortunately this meant that the civilians were in the middle of it all.

Turning to Galdithion, the prince whispered out his orders furiously, they had no more time.

"Walk over to the maids, casually, don't run. Make sure they do not panic, tell them to move the elflings towards us without running."

Galdithion nodded, took a deep breath, slung his bow over his shoulder and slipped down the bark of the tree, walking out into the clearing as if bound for a picnic. Half way there, one of the maids spotted him, an inquisitive look on her playful face. Galdithion smiled what he hoped was reassuringly, the last thing they wanted was for the children to panic. Finally arriving at her side, he took her arm in an iron grip and used a tone that booked no argument.

"You are in danger, we are in the trees behind you but the danger comes from the other side – you are in the middle. We need you to bring the elflings closer to our side without raising the alarm – can you do that?"

She stared wide-eyed at him, she was terrified, but she had understood him perfectly. She strolled over to her colleague, and in a business-like voice she announced a new game.

"Now we will play the tree game. Come, let us move over to the border of the copse!" she exclaimed joyfully, ushering the giggling, bouncing children over to what only she knew was safety.

Meanwhile, Legolas, eyes shining green, was receiving the tactical information he so desperately needed, which he conveyed real-time to his captain.

"There are well-over fifty, twenty of which are in the trees. They are temporarily distracted but will notice the children's retreat at any time now." He turned to Henian then, "we are sorely outnumbered, my friend."

Henian smiled sadly, but nodded. "The Noldor will be coming soon, all we have to do is resist for a time, and that we do so well, my prince."

Legolas smiled at his childhood companion, nodding as he signaled for imminent battle.

They peered through the branches, watching as the children slowly approached them, but it was not quick enough, for the orcs had realized they were leaving their vulnerable position, it would be harder to get at them from inside the forest, and so their leader held up his black fist, howling their attack.

Their roars alerted the Greenwood, who could do nothing but wait for the enemy to come nearer, for they were not in range. One child looked over his shoulder and promptly spied what was running towards them.

"Demons!" he cried, as he and his group began an all out sprint, the tutors pulling along their charges as best they could. 'Just a little more, just a little more' chanted the prince as he watched their desperate plight, he could feel his warriors cringing, the pent up adrenalin making them shake, their jaws clenching in anxiety, powerless to do anything but watch. All this pent up energy was finally released as a mighty whoosh signaled the first volley of arrows that was sent into the trees facing them. A second volley took out those closest to the flailing children, the stinking bodies crashing to the forest floor in a cloud of soil and leaves. After the fifth volley, the group had finally reached the cover of the trees, and Legolas signaled for three archers to stay with them, as the remaining ten charged past the exhausted yet terrified children and their tutors, unsheathing their long knives as they sprinted forward. Jenah was dumbfounded and then anxiety slammed into her belly as she realized that this was all there was, ten warriors to face the black wall that charged towards them. What were they thinking?' she thought, as she gathered the trembling, disorientated children to her under the protective eaves, turning their faces to hers, shading their tender hearts from the sheer violence, not only of the orcs but of their own kin, for they were frightening to behold. As Jenah continued to watch the battle, she felt every hair on her body contract painfully, for Legolas moved in a way that seemed almost unnatural, his kinetics were so fast and furious, precise and thunderingly powerful – his acrobatics were nothing if not unbelievable, and she knew that, to the children, he would appear as an avenging spirit, a wrathful whirlwind of fury and ire, and she was caught up in it, for she was deeply perturbed by what she saw.

They whirled and parried, attacked and stabbed, slit throats and amputated extremities. Chests were bared open and eyes where pierced, faces were cut open, bones crushed, lives extinguished, guts spewed onto the fresh green grass.

On they fought, as time expanded into what seemed to them an eternity, for they were so sorely outnumbered and they were tiring. Some had fallen and had dragged themselves behind their brothers – the archers in the trees spending their last arrows to bring down the orcs in the trees ahead, who were still firing at the legs of the elves, trying to incapacitate them, and still, the Noldor had not arrived.

Legolas vaguely registered a sharp pain to his left leg, and another to the head. He countered whatever it was that had penetrated his defenses, a scream rent the air as he did so. He slashed again, jabbed to the front and then backwards, for he was surrounded. Another distant pain to his leg, then his shoulder, a dull thud to the head, and yet on he fought, he twisted and stabbed, slit and hacked, another scream, and another, until a haze filled his sight and the world tilted – he hesitated, disorientated, only to shake his head to clear his vision, jumping and side-twisting out of the circle of hungry orcs, hacking at them from behind until all had fallen, his twin knives extended far behind him, in line with his left leg.

….

The clamor of battle could be heard well before they arrived. The screams, the shouts, the cries of terror spurred them on in their final stint, until finally, they dismounted – their steeds still in motion, drawing their swords as they sprinted after their general towards the copse and to the edge. There, they met ten horrified children, cowering around the skirts of two maids, who sheltered them as best they could from the horror that played out in front of them. Some cried, some openly sobbed, yet one was strangely subdued, as if in shock. Various elves lay sprawled or desperately trying to gain their feet behind their battling comrades. Three were still out in the clearing, facing impossible odds. They had been fighting for long, for they faltered, they bled and yet still they killed, and there was Legolas, glorious in his fury. Surely they could not hold out much more, and so Imladris rushed to the fore, with Elladan and Elrohir shouting the charge. The remaining orcs screamed their surprise as they were hacked down by the Noldor, but not before Legolas freed himself of the circle of beasts that had surrounded him, for he sprang into the air, twisting as he vaulted out of the centre, only to hack down the thoroughly dumbfounded orcs. Landing on his open legs, his knives pointing backwards, hair whipping around his neck as he finally came to a halt. Those warriors, Glorfindel included, that had seen the feat, could only wonder at how it had been done, for the move had seemed impossible, almost supernatural; surely it was impossible to twist sideways in middle air? However, they promptly moved in to help their kin, not that they needed it, for the twins had led the charge into the trees on the other side, hacking down all that were not quick enough to escape their wrath.

Glorfindel ordered Melven to the welfare of the civilians, his small son among them, as he himself walked over to where Legolas still stood, although he moved not, his chest heaved in an effort to suck in as much air as he needed, face tilted towards the Sun. The general approached cautiously, for he knew not if Legolas was cognizant of his surroundings. Finally at his side, he took in the sight before him. His eyes were vivid blue, staring into nothing, his frame rigid, as blood poured from his forehead down one side of his face, his tunic was covered in blood although he knew not of what species.

"Legolas, 'tis I, Glorfindel. Rest now, they are safe, your foes vanquished".

The two other warriors that had accompanied Legolas in the final throes of the battle, finally fell, their knees buckling after the extreme effort they had made. Glorfindel's men gently helped them away and into the trees, mounting them up with other warriors for the trip home.

Legolas drew a deep, audible breath then, and turned his head back to Glorfindel, finally coming back to himself and realizing who it was that stood so cautiously beside him.

"I am in a fine state, love." He whispered, closing his eyes momentarily.

Glorfindel was taken aback by the term of endearment, and yet it exhilarated him to hear it. He smiled at his beautiful lover, and gestured for him to follow, leading Legolas over to where their horses had been retrieved, for Legolas was just as proud, if not more, than he himself was. Melven, a concerned look on his relieved face, handed the prince a wad of cloth to press over his forehead to staunch the bleeding, which he took with a curt nod.

Mithrandir looked out over the ruined field, briefly catching the prince's eyes. Legolas nodded to the Istar as he mounted, registering but not showing the sharp pain in his side.

"Gal, how badly are you wounded?" he called down to his bodyguard.

"An arrow to the leg makes walking an issue, but if I can get over to my steed, I am operational my lord."

"And Henian?"

"A little worse, an arrow to the shoulder has him knocked out for a while, I think. I will take him, my lord, if you will permit."

A simple nod from the prince was all he got and was helped over to his horse.

Legolas was aware of the perplexed looks he was receiving from some of the dark haired warriors, but also the concerned but covert glances his own warriors cast his way. The elflings, however, would not even look at him.

"Ready?" asked Glorfindel.

"Yes".

Nodding uncertainly, Glorfindel ordered Elladan and Elrohir to keep 10 warriors and take charge of the clean up, the rest would transport the children and their tutors, while the Greenwood organized themselves such that the less seriously injured would double up on horseback with the worst cases. This was done so as to free the remaining Imladrian warriors who would be encharged with the protection of the caravan during the ride back.

And with that, they were off at a steady canter, the children clinging desperately to the horses' manes, their guardian warriors protecting them, especially one Melvenion, who sat in front of his father as one struck dumb and deaf – for he showed no emotion, and so his father did the only thing that he could, he held him tight and sped him home.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

They had been gone for hours now, and dusk was beginning to fall. Galadriel and Celeborn had joined Elrond and his councilor in the library; the wait would be easier in the company of friends, yet the atmosphere could have been sliced with a knife, for their feelings of helplessness were making them curt. Elrond himself had had to placate more than a dozen frantic elves seeking news of their children, for word had gotten out of the threat to the school party, and the desperate ride of the sylvan warriors.

"How has this happened? I should have sensed it, I should have been warned", he exclaimed, sparing a fleeting glance at his right hand. "A group so large has never ventured so close to our borders."

"The eastern border is that which is closest to the heart of the city, Elrond. The orcs know that something is happening in Imladris. They have their own intelligence and will have seen the movements; did they not waylay the Greenwood entourage on their final leg to your house? Nay, 'tis not so strange, Elrond, and the blame is not yours to claim. Besides, you _were_ warned," stated the lady.

"Perhaps you are right"; sighed a very frustrated Elrond. "We still do not have the details. If there had been a massacre I would have known, surely. Yet the wood elves sensed the danger before Vilya, even."

"I must speak with Legolas on his return", stressed Galadriel. She had reached her limit – too many things had been happening, transcendental things that she needed to be aware of.

"Yes, well, be that as it may, I…" he trailed of… eyes widening almost imperceptively, "they will be here within the hour", was all he said, as he stood and rushed from the room, bound for his own quarters – there were preparations to make, and so little time to achieve them.

…

Glorfindel cantered through the last of the trees before arriving on the path to Imladris, still riding beside Legolas, who held his seat still, despite the sight of him. Mithrandir rode on his other side, staff held high as his hair whipped about him, obviously wondering how Legolas was functioning so well on his own, just the blood dripping from his head should have been enough to render him senseless.

Finally on the path, they walked the last few yards until coming to a halt. Elrond was there in his long white tunic, healers behind him, and the civilians confined to the back. Maeron, however, stood next to Elrond – Legolas was his charge, but more he loved the boy as a father would, yet respected him more than everyone, save perhaps for his liege lord.

"Sweet Valar", whispered Erestor, now at his Lord's side.

Anxious mothers and fathers broke the ranks of confined civilians as they rushed forward to relieve the warriors of their small charges, hugging them tight and spiriting them away to their houses, and loving safety.

Legolas slung one leg over the saddle, dropping to the floor and giving his horse over to the waiting attendant. As the filed into the courtyard, healers came forward, and the triage began with Elrond at the fore.

"Legolas, come, all is seen to, come and rest", urged Glorfindel. Legolas looked at the warrior then, calculating what would need to be done, and whether it had been contemplated. Finally deciding that anything that _had _been missed would be of scarce import, he allowed himself to be escorted inside.

Elrond remained on the steps a few moments longer, passing his critical eye on the wounded that were dismounting, analyzing the importance of each injury, and prioritizing who would be taken into the emergency wing, and who would be attended to in the healing rooms. Finally satisfied with his choices, he turned and followed the two warriors, flanked by an anxious Maeron.

Up in the healing sector, candles were lit, water was set to boil, cloths and tools were sterilized, as healers continued to arrive, some having been called to duty from a day of rest, still tying their hair back as they passed their experienced eyes over the warriors.

Legolas was following the flow of stretchers and healers; he needed to assess the state of each of his elves before he could allow himself to relax.

Entering the healing ward, he saw Galdithion and Henian being settled near the far window. He would start there. Striding over to the beds, he found them both conscious, although obviously in some discomfort. A healer approached then, inspecting his patients' faces and then glancing up at the tall prince, only to do a double-take, for he was covered in bright red blood. Gathering up a wad of soft material, he silently handed it to the lord, gesturing towards his head that he should staunch the bleeding. Accepting the cloth, he did as instructed, but would not move.

"What is the prognosis, healer?"

"For who, my lord? " asked the healer, somewhat rhetorically, for he knew of whom the prince spoke, yet he looked worse than his warriors did, albeit he _was_ still on his feet. After a somewhat exasperated expression changed his weary face, the healer took pity. "An arrow wound each, both clean. Once out, I will keep them here for a few days. That is all if there are no complications."

"You have my thanks", he curtly said, swiveling on his heel to the next group of beds, not giving the healer time for a retort.

Repeating his interrogation on a female healer attending his warriors, he was finally satisfied that there were no serious injuries, at least not by the Greenwood's standards, and so he approached Elrond, who was seeing to a thigh wound.

"It would seem there are no serious injuries Elrond. My people will want to take over the care of their warriors. Do you consent?"

Without turning his head, Elrond gave his permission, but with the strict condition that there was to be no hindering his healers' work, and that they were to do as ordered. That would not be a problem, Maeron had equally strict rules for his healing sector – they were more than accustomed to taking orders from healers.

Striding over to the door, he met the anxious eyes of six of his subjects, watching him through watery eyes. Llyn was at the fore, watching her prince closely, for she knew him well and decided that once she had helped in the ward, she would seek Legolas out an offer him comfort.

"You may enter, under the usual conditions."

A collecting sigh of relief went out, as they floated into the ward, each assigning themselves to a wounded warrior. Llyn cupped the unsoiled side of his face and smiled proudly, walking past him to perform her duties.

Smiling after her, he turned, and almost walked into Glorfindel and Maeron. He had not been attentive enough, a sign that he was not precisely at his best.

Glorfindel looked angry, and for some strange reason, this made him smile naughtily, however his bruised face quickly wiped it off his battered face, turning his mischievous smile into a rueful grimace. Maeron stepped up to Legolas' side and made to accompany him, yet the prince stayed him.

"Maeron, you are better employed by staying with the warriors for a while, my friend. They are more in need of you than I."

"Yet you are my charge, prince. I know what you hide."

A sheepish smile flittered over his lips, but then he schooled himself and answered the royal healer.

"Maeron, 'tis not serious. Take a few hours here then seek me out if you must. Glorfindel will be with me."

Taking a final, appraising look at his patient, he finally consented, but made it clear he would be returning before the evening meal, and with that he was gone, joining his Noldor colleagues in the ward.

"You _will _accompany me, Prince", was all Glorfindel said, as he pivoted stiffly without looking back, knowing he would be followed. Leading the prince to Elrond's private suite, he walked straight into the room and gestured to the bed.

Legolas understood the order and slowly drifted over to the inviting covers, giving his lover time to calm himself.

"Strip and get in."

Legolas was, again, struck by the odd impulse to chuckle again, but reined in his treacherous and painful lips and sat upon the side of the bed.

Reaching for the buckle over his chest, he unclasped it awkwardly. His hands shook somewhat, and he knew this was from over-exertion – he had wielded knife and bow for many long minutes and at full throttle and he was sure he would sleep like a new-born babe that evening, if not as soon as his aching head hit the soft white pillow.

Starting on the clasps of his leather jerkin, gentle hands surrounded him from behind, and helped him with the task. He felt Glorfindel's face draw flush to his own and a heart-felt whisper to his ear, "I am sorry – forgive me."

Legolas would have kissed him then, all mirth forgotten, but half his head was caked in blood, and so he covered the general's hands with his own dirty ones, squeezing them in forgiveness.

Glorfindel peeled off the tunic and let it slide free, his eyes falling to the prince's beautifully carved back.

He was bruised around the shoulder blades, and small cuts scattered down his sides which bled no longer. Slipping off the bed and kneeling before the prince, he gasped at the snapped off shaft that protruded from his side, bloody and dirty.

Closing his eyes to calm his suddenly pounding heart, he loosened the ties to the elf's leggings and slid them off, revealing an ugly cut to his thigh, and yet more bruising. He had taken a battering, but how he had managed to camouflage the arrow wound was beyond Glorfindel's ken. He knew - he had just _known_ that his prince was injured, and he had also known that he would hide it until everything was under control – he would have done the same, and yet it had irked him, nay it had raised his ire.

Pulling Legolas onto the bed, the prince slowly lowered himself, willing his stiff body to relax and for the first time he took stock of his injuries. He was not badly off, he ached and he was tired, and there was a niggling pain in his side and head, not to mention an irksome stabbing pain in his thigh– yet what was important now was to extract the arrow stub. Tomorrow he would need Llyn's able hands to relieve him of the cramps he would surely suffer.

"That needs out now, love", said Glorfindel gently, mirroring Legolas' thoughts.

Turning his head to Glorfindel, he nodded once. "Do it for me?" he asked.

"Legolas, Elrond should do this, it may be snagged, and I could do more harm than what has already been wrought. I will call him."

"Nay, do not. He is busy with others that need him more. It is clean, Glorfindel, trust me?"

Glorfindel looked at the prince for long moments. It was obviously not the first arrow he had taken, in fact he spoke like an expert.

"Very well then, it shall be done."

Glorfindel had done this many times for his own warriors, yet to inflict pain on this one was going to prove a challenge. His heart twinged at the thought, as he covered the prince's middle with a sheet, his vambraces and armbands the only things he wore. The sight of him was rousing Glorfindel's libido, for he was sprawled recklessly, dirty and bloody, his warrior trophies sitting upon his arm. He felt himself swell and harden.

As he fussed around the bed, Legolas observed him. His lover was nervous, and flustered. He smiled to himself because he now understood where the ire had come from. Legolas had scared him, he had shaken Glorfindel more than he would have it known. By hiding it, he had changed the appearance of his emotion to that of anger. He wondered then at the depth of Glorfindel's desire for him. He wondered at the nature of it, even. Sex, love. One was possible without the other, but the equation did not reverse well.

Placing a bowl of water at the bedside and the linens he had procured from the healing ward, he bent over his patient and inspected the arrow, prodding with the tips of his fingers. It did indeed seem to be a clean shot and there was no resistance as he continued his prodding. One look at Legolas told him to yank it out, and he did.

A silent scream played over the warrior's face as his back arched off the bed, staying that way for long seconds, until the agony subsided into simple pain, relaxing his back once more and closing his eyes to compose himself, and as he did so, he felt his body starting to shut itself down, finally at the end of its endurance. He felt his eyelids lowering themselves, his breathing slowing itself, his limbs losing their tension. He was falling into a healing coma and he decided not to fight it, for although it would render him completely vulnerable, he knew that Glorfindel would protect him, defend him.

Glorfindel had stepped into the corridor and requested some items from a passing attendant.

Walking back over to the bed, he started as he saw the insensate prince, eyes closed and mouth slightly open, head turned to one side.

He recognized the slackness that healing induced, and forced himself to relax as he observed the steady, slow breathing and peaceful features of the now slumbering prince.

And so, after he had collected the items he had requested, Glorfindel proceeded to cleanse his lover tenderly, washing his body gently with a basin of warm, scented water. He worked around the wounds, cuts, nicks and bruises, washing the arrow wound as best he could without disturbing his lover. He could not wash his glorious hair, but he got as much of the blood out as he could, locating the cut to his scalp that had bled so much, and which was now raw and swollen but that bled no more.

The movements calmed him as he turned his thoughts inward, thinking about his reaction to Legolas' injuries. He had been angry, for the Valar's sake, but why he could not say. The prince had certainly done nothing to warrant it, in fact he had done exactly what he himself would have done – see to his warriors and secure the site, ride back and insure his people's safety. The prince had also acquiesced docilely to being tended to, and yet wherefore this ire? he asked himself. But truth be told, he had already found his answer, for as he continued to cleanse the warrior before him, we wondered how anyone, anything could think to harm him. What manner of darkness was capable of marring such beauty? He smiled then, as he came to the inevitable conclusion that he was spiraling upwards, into the swirling vortex that was taking him ever-closer to paradise; what he felt was all-encasing, soul-lifting and life-changing – he was in love.

He had startled himself out of his transcendental pondering to stare dumbfounded at Legolas, lying asleep before him. He was stunned by the revelation he had uncovered to himself. He had been so very angry because he wanted to maim, torture and kill those that had hurt his lover, but could not. And yet he would. He was already sworn to the protection of Elrond's line and that was his purpose in his second life, protect them from harm, from the encroaching darkness that would, one day, come to a pinnacle, and yet he now had a purpose of his own, a love of his own, another powerful reason to fight the darkness.

…..

Stretchers bearing the wounded and unconscious were now being taken from the emergency wing, and into the healing rooms where the patients would stay until they were fit enough to leave, all accompanied by their reverent woodland kin - for a civilian to tend to a warrior was considered a great honor, a way for them to give their thanks for the selfless protection they gave.

Elladan and Elrohir had ridden in some time ago, and were now overseeing the logistics at their father's behest. Here, there was no pranking, no light-hearted banter - here, they became the leaders they had been brought up to be. They had ordered Galdithion into a room further down the hall; he had suffered an arrow wound and multiple cuts and bruises, but more than this, he suffered from the same malady as all the wounded warriors – they were all completely extenuated. They had fought for their lives amidst impossible odds, had done the impossible to save the 10 elflings and their care givers. They were battered and bruised, dehydrated and exhausted, and this was never a good complement to a wound, indeed most had fallen into a deep healing sleep and would not be roused.

Both Galdithion and Henian had asked every healer that attended them about their prince, and when they received no answer and were finally beside themselves with worry, Henian had escaped his bed and gone in search of Elrond's son.

Elladan remembered the pleading, desperate tone of the proud warrior, and so he had told him what he knew. He had seen Legolas standing on his own two feet, giving orders and checking on his warriors. True he had not been seen for a while, but he did manage to put the proud body guard at some ease and he had been reasonably satisfied, for the moment. Elladan also knew that if Elrond was here, the prince had taken no serious hurt, of that he was sure, for he had seen the depth of emotion in his sire's eyes as he gazed surreptitiously at the woodland warrior, but he wasn't going to tell Galdithion about that.

Outside the revered house, and now in the comfort of their own homes, ten families held their children tight, washing away the terror with love and affection, especially Melvenion – who cried himself to sleep, for he had been terrified of his savior, and he felt so ashamed, for warriors were never scared, warriors were courageous like Prince Legolas, and he thought then, that he would never be good enough for the ranks of Imladris or Greenwood.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

It was late evening. The valley had served dinner in the halls downstairs, but the kitchen staff was hard pressed to cater to the requests for trays to be sent to the heeling section and its rooms.

Brathina was a cook, and a good one, and her daughter was quickly following in her footsteps as an able apprentice, yet today they were doubling up as serving maids. They did not mind, however, for they were tending to the prince's people, and he was an elf who knew how to eat, he had recognized their work as art, in public at the grand opening ceremony, and her family would never forget the honor bestowed upon them. Yet if that had not been enough, today they had saved twelve of their kin, ten of them elflings – their _children_, and by the grace of Elbereth they had achieved it, although not without a price. And so Brathina, Brathiniel and the entire household staff, together with Gaerwyn at the fore in the kitchens, worked gladly, for no complaint would pass their lips.

Activity had died down in the healing ward, there was hardly anyone left there, most having been moved into individual chambers, designed for recovery and recuperation. There, the Greenwood warriors lay, lovingly attended to by their civilians, those they had sworn to protect. Others sat outside in the warm spring breeze, and sang songs of rejoicing, victory and recovery. Some of the Imladrians had joined them, wanting to add their best wishes to the sylvan warriors, and by now, there was quite the international choir in the gardens.

Elladan and Elrohir had bid their father rest, assuring him that they would take the night shift between them. Elrond had felt a surge of pride race through him. He had seen how they had worked through the day, how they had taken command and made all the right decisions. His heart swelled painfully as he whispered words of pride to his lost love.

As he walked back to his chambers, he met Erestor, who looked worn.

"Erestor, have you dined?"

"Nay, I thought to slip into the kitchens and see what I can procure for myself. I thought to take a tray to my rooms."

"Come, accompany me, for I will be requesting a tray to be brought up, join me?"

With a tired smile, Erestor fell into step with his lord, happy for the company.

Once at Elrond's door, the lord eagerly pushed it open, only to find himself nose to nose with Maeron, the royal healer.

"Maeron, forgive me, my friend!" he exclaimed, for he had very nearly bowled the fellow over.

"Do not apologize, my lord, I was just leaving."

"Is all well, he asked as he looked over the healer's shoulders. The only elf who would enter his private chambers without his explicit permission was Glorfindel, and indeed there he was, sitting in a plush armchair besides the bed, the bed that was not empty.

"All is now well, my lord, nothing serious, just a few days rest and recovery. Sleep well, my lords."

And with that, he was gone, walking down the now deserted corridor, headed for his own chambers and blissful oblivion.

Moving over to the bed, he waited for Glorfindel to elaborate, for Legolas was insensate, naked under a thin sheet covering his middle.

Glorfindel turned his head then, smiling up at Elrond. He looked changed, although Elrond knew not how, or in what way.

"Well, general, tell me why is it you are sitting here still in your battle gear, smelling of orc and smiling like an elfling baking bread!"

"Elrond, he took an _arrow _to the side, for the love of Este!" He said nothing and left it to me to find it, quite by chance, and then he suggesting that _I _just pull it out, I Glorfindel, _warrior _not healer_!_"

"And that is why you are grinning? You have me confounded, Glorfindel." Complained Erestor as he followed Elrond to the bed.

Turning his attention to the elf in his bed, the healer inspected the bandages wrapped around the trim waist and hips. He unwound them a way to reveal the wound, raising his other hand to gently prod at the surrounding area. Legolas moved not an inch, totally oblivious to the master's inspection.

"It must be painful. His threshold must be high." He said, almost to himself.

Erestor moved behind Glorfindel and placed both palms on his shoulders.

"Go and bathe, Fin. Change and come back. We will care for him and order some food brought up – go", he urged.

He was loathe to, but needed to get out of his filthy gear and so he heeded them, taking one last tender look at Legolas, before walking to the door and disappearing into the corridor.

Elrond continued his auscultation, noting the cut to the head that would need some attention, and the cut to his thigh, which would need disinfection. The bruise to the side of his face must have been painful, he thought, for it was already turning light purple. Again, he would have to see to this.

"Erestor, help me carry him into the bathing chamber, I must rinse out this mess" he said, gesturing to the matted hair. Then perhaps you can you order some food for the four of us?"

"Of course, bring him while I prepare the water for you."

…

Glorfindel was back in less than fifteen minutes, and in that short time he had bathed and changed into comfortable, loose-fitting clothes. He found his friends settling Legolas on the bed, which had been turned down. Erestor was drying his now clean hair, careful not to aggravate the cuts and bruises, while Elrond arranged his limbs into a comfortable position.

Legolas was slowly emerging from his sleep, but this was no ordinary sleep, and it took much longer to shake the lethargy. Struggling with his eyes, he tried and failed to focus, trying again until he saw Elrond's concerned face leaning over him.

"Take your time, 'tis only I, Erestor and Glorfindel. You have been in a healing sleep and will feel a little groggy for a while. Here, drink a little," he urged, placing a glass of fresh water to his lips.

Legolas relaxed a little, knowing that he was in the company of those he trusted most, sucking clumsily from the offered vessel.

A knock at the door revealed Brathiniel and her mother, bearing trays laden with foods fit for convalescing elves. Walking over to the table placed near the window, Brathiniel allowed her eyes to stray to the occupant of the massive bed. He was hurt and not quite lucid, as the master of the house employed his talents on his patient. She knew not what took over her will just then, for her mother hissed at her to follow her back out the door, yet she was drawn to the bed and to the prince, who blinked, somewhat disorientated at the female that approached him.

She was mesmerized by this woodland elf, for he had exalted her family, saved the children of her kin and friends, had redeemed Melven, and had simply brought so much joy to the valley since his arrival that she felt humbled in his presence, and the need to thank, to show respect, to pay homage, overtook her good sense as she walked over to him, and promptly sunk to her knees, bowing her head and speaking words she would never have dreamed herself capable of.

"For your sincere and heart-felt thanks for our efforts during the ceremony, for saving the lives of the sons of Melven, Cormion, Aglor, Tormion, for bringing joy to our beloved valley, I thank you my lord; you have the love and friendship of me and mine, for as long as you wish it."

She looked up then, stunned at herself for being so bold, but the words had escaped her as if on their own volition, she was nothing if not shy, yet today, today she had been deeply moved by the courageous ride of the sylvans, and she had synthesized all that her kin and herself wished to express, it had flowed from her soul, not from her reasoning mind.

Legolas blinked slowly, clearing his fuzzy vision to look upon the kneeling maid who had uttered such love and respect, yet what to say? He had not reasoned his actions, it had been a simple choice; the forest was in agony and had called out to him, it was his job to protect them and that is what had spurred him on. Later, albeit before the battle, he knew what the odds were and what he was fighting for, not only his protégés but the lives of 12 civilians, and yes, he had been honored to see them to safety.

"Brathiniel, you honor me and mine with your words. 'Tis my assigned task in this life to protect the forests of our world, and by default all that moves within. It was a great honor to serve you, your family, your friends and your lord."

Smiling one to the other, she rose, bowed deeply, and left with her mother in tow, now beaming with loving pride, for she realized that she knew not her daughter.

Glorfindel stared at his love, while Elrond stared at the floor, contemplating the prince's words. Erestor closed the door behind mother and daughter and took in the scene playing out before him.

It was Elrond who finally broke the solemn silence, tilting his head as he uttered the words that came to him.

"Tis true, Legolas, you saved our young ones, risked your live and that of your warriors, and you have paid for it. You have my heart-felt thanks my friend."

Legolas smiled languidly, blinking slowly as he reached for Elrond's hand.

"For you, I would move a mountain, travel to the very pits of Mordor if need would have it, for there is _nothing _I would not do for you."

Glorfindel shivered at the prince's words. He should have felt jealous of his pledge to Elrond, and yet somehow he knew it had not been a lover's pledge, but one of deep friendship and duty. He knew not _how_ he knew, yet he did. He seemed capable of understanding Legolas' meaning despite his words.

"Now", said the general, "Stay with us long enough to eat, prince, then you may enter your healing sleep once more for as long as you wish."

"Hungry", he murmured, as Erestor took the other side and helped Glorfindel hoist him up into a semi-reclining position.

The three friends ate from their trays, as Legolas sipped on a hot broth, hands still shaking. Glorfindel leant over and held a mushroom delight to Legolas' lips. He opened them slowly, extending his moist pink tongue, taking his first taste of the magnificent morsel. Glorfindel pushed it into his mouth, trailing his finger over the prince's bottom lip as he watched him chew, smiling up at his lover angelically, a hint of provocation in his weary eyes.

"Glorfindel, do not fluster your prince, no strenuous exercise", said Elrond, smirking over at Erestor, who grinned back.

"I would not dream of it, at least not today. Now _tomorrow_…"

"You are presumptuous, general. However, if you would be so kind as to relieve me of this tray, I would like to sleep. Worry not for the noise, my friends, for I will not hear it, but please wake me for breakfast?" he asked, knowing that if he did not make that clear, he would be left to slumber well into the afternoon.

And so the lords of Imladris took their turns to place a tender kiss to the prince's sweet lips before his eyes glazed over, and then closed, leaving his lovers to sit before the hearth and contemplate on the day's most extraordinary events.

….

It was well past dawn, as the enticing smells from the kitchen finally roused the occupants of Elrond's private suite. Elrond rose first and readied himself, swiftly followed by Erestor, who had a full agenda today, taking over some of his Lord's duties so that he may spend more time in the healing rooms.

Glorfindel shuffled over to a still sleeping Legolas, whose eyes were slowly and sluggishly opening to the world. Glorfindel placed a kiss to his brow as Elrond bent over the prince, placing one hand to the side of his bruised face.

"Your sleep was deep. Sit up slowly, take your time."

"Aye, a moment he rasped, which is when he realized that he must have slept with his mouth open, for his throat was as dry as charcoal. Erestor approached then, with a glass of fresh water and a kind smile.

Legolas took the glass and drank deeply, returning the smile and bidding a good morning to his friend. Sharing a sweet kiss, Erestor walked from the room to attend to his duties.

When Legolas made to move from the bed, both Elrond and Glorfindel made it clear they did not think that was a good idea.

"I promise I will not over-exert myself. It is best I take breakfast with you in the halls, my people need to see me, otherwise you will find no peace, Elrond, and neither shall I."

Considering Legolas' words, he finally conceded, accepting Glorfindel's escort and help for the day, which was more than fine with the prince.

….

Legolas' attendance, had indeed been important and had served to set his people's minds at rest, talking to them as they shared the informal meal. He had enquired of his warriors' injuries and was promptly updated by their appointed care givers. All were resting comfortably and so Legolas bid them rest for the day, the political debates would soon begin.

Glorfindel led Legolas out into the morning sun, heading for the gardens just beyond the courtyard. A morning stroll was just what his lover would want, and besides, Glorfindel wished to speak to him privately.

High-pitched giggling snaked in and around the trees and bushes of the surrounding gardens, children were at play for sure. Stepping out into a small clearing, they came to an abrupt halt, observing the group of elflings who were … dressed like the prince? They were engrossed in their game, sparing with wooden sticks - a common site amongst children, except for the fact that they had stripped themselves down to their leggings, and had braided their hair at the sides, tall twigs peaked from over their shoulders in the fashion of a mighty long bow. No sooner had they set eyes on Legolas, than they sprinted into the trees, one little boy with a squeal of horror.

It was too much for Glorfindel, who snorted through his nose before bellowing out his mirth to the heavens, gasping for air and then promptly wheezing it all out again.

Legolas, however was mortified, for they had been truly frightened of him. He had noticed this after the battle just yesterday, but had attributed it to the stress and anxiety of having witnessed bloodshed at such a tender age. However he had been wrong.

Glorfindel noticed his discomfort and so tried to control his laughing as he placed his hand on the prince's shoulder, smiling in sympathy.

"You take it too seriously, Legolas. 'Tis not a bad thing that you scare people so, for that is the purpose of your tactic, and yet there is a downside to it, one that has nothing to do with battle. "

"I know, yet it is not natural, Glorfindel, to scare the young ones so, 'tis not in my nature to be comfortable with this at all."

"It will pass, you will see."

"I know. Come, let us go down to the pond."

And so the pair spent the day walking around the gardens and the stables, greeting those they met along the way, and returning the tokens of deep respect given to the prince. Glorfindel had not spoken of his newfound emotions to the prince. He was hesitant about how to broach the subject. It had been so little time and felt that perhaps Legolas would feel he was being overbearing. However he knew that Legolas was nothing if not perceptive and so he strolled over to the edge of the water, settling the prince under a willow, whose branches arched over into the water.

"I wanted to speak to you privately, Legolas, after yesterday's events. I was angry with you…"

"Yes, I know." Legolas also thought he knew why, but decided to let Glorfindel speak.

"I wondered at myself then. I pondered the reasons why I could ever be angry with you, and the answer shook me, prince."

Legolas was staring intently at his lover, his stomach was telling him he was on the edge of a decisive moment, and he could see that for Glorfindel it was the same.

"I was angry because I wanted to torture and kill those that had harmed you, but I couldn't for you had already done that. The ire turned to anger at you, because you placed yourself in danger and I could have lost you, and then I realized that all these emotions come down to the same thing; I could not bear to lose you because, because I love you, Legolas."

He held the prince's regard, hoping with all his heart that Legolas would not reject him, praying that we would return if only a fraction of the feelings he had for him.

Legolas' head tilted subtly to the side as his eyes smiled. He felt a wave of beauty and serenity wash over his soul and he closed his eyes as he tilted his head back towards the sun, savoring the moment of bliss before he turned his face once more to his lover.

"I have always loved you, Lord of Gondolin. Since the moment I saw you, I could not comprehend how or why I loved you from the very beginning. I revere you above all others, Glorfindel, twice born warrior, Lord of the House of the Golden Flower, friend to Legaelair, lover of his great grandson."

Glorfindel's eyes were wide, as was his smile as he threw his head back and rejoiced to the Sun.

…

After a private lunch with Mithrandir, Elrond, Glorfindel, Erestor and the lords of Lorien, the six elves stepped out into Celebrian's gardens.

Legolas felt pleasantly sated and somewhat tired. He would settle himself somewhere shaded and nap for a while, try to come to terms with that fact that he loved and was loved. The wizard for his part, sat a little apart, for he wished to smoke and think, and then he also wished to give Galadriel her moment with the prince.

The group had settled at the banks of the small lagoon at the base of one of the many waterfalls that surrounded Imladris. Rocks littered the perimeter, which gave way to crystal clear waters and bright green moss. Legolas leaned against a large boulder, his face turned to the sun, while his lovers shed their clothing and dived into the crystal clean water together with Celeborn, who had surprised Legolas at how he changed when in informal company. Galadriel, however, stayed with the prince, for she had seen her chance; and of course she had no intention of stripping in front of her son-in-law.

Legolas smiled sleepily as he observed the feisty lords, frolicking and splashing each other. He wished he could join them and it must have shown on his face, for Galadriel chuckled at him.

"You wish to dive in and mortify your lovers…"

Well, if she could be direct, Legolas could be cuttingly so, and so he answered her, the smile never leaving his face.

"I would do more than mortify them, my lady, alas I am not yet fit enough to do so."

She smiled genuinely then, for she respected wit and rhetoric.

"Indeed, and from what I can see, Elrond would let you."

"Do you object?"

"'Tis not for me to judge, Legolas. He is my son-in-law, as you know. I hold deep affection for him, sorrow and grief have bound us together."

"If it is any relief to you, I will tell you that I will never hurt him, for he has become dear to me. Yet more than this, I am tied in some way to his family. There is something I have not yet understood, something that escapes my grasp, just beyond the frontier of my conscience…"

He had been talking to himself almost, looking down to the grass, his expression lost, yet Galadriel was staring at him like a hawk; she observed every move, every twinge, expression, processed every word he had said.

"You have foresight?" she asked, although somewhat rhetorically.

"To an extent, but it has been acquired, Galadriel, I was not born this way. I do not see future events, I feel emotions, pick up nuances that others do not, yet in this my destiny, the feelings are much stronger, as if the structure of a story is being laid out before me, but without the words, do you…"

"I _do_ understand, Legolas. More than you know. From what you say, you have a pre-ordained destiny before you, yet you hide your true identity from those that love you best."

"Nay, I do not hide it, I wait for the right time."

"You are tired. Sleep Legolas, you are safe here."

"Forgive me," he said then, as he heaved a sigh and allowed his eyes to glaze and his head to loll.

She smiled as a mother would then, for he looked so sweet and calm sprawled under the tree, sleeping peacefully, and a sudden desire to protect washed over her, making her eyes widen for a moment, for the feeling had been strong, violent almost. Unknown to her, Mithrandir observed her just as closely as she did the prince.

As four wet elves approached the glade, Galadriel placed a finger to her lips in a silent plea for silence. Glancing at the sleeping prince, they sat themselves down and dried off, lounging back and dozing in the afternoon sun; even Galadriel was lulled into a state of semi-vigil, cradled in the arms of a mighty oak.

"You will make me jealous".

Legolas jerked awake violently, surprising Glorfindel whose head was resting on his shoulder.

"What, what is it?"

"Nay, 'tis nothing. Which of you spoke?" he asked, still a little disorientated, although the looks of incomprehension on the faces in front of him told him what he needed to know, they had no idea what he was talking about."

"No one spoke, prince."

…..

Dinner was not taken in the public halls that evening, for Legolas was convalescing, and was urged to join the lords on the balcony of Elrond's private quarters.

All had dressed informally, although Legolas more than any, for he wore a loose-fitting shirt to accommodate the thick bandaging that surrounded his trim waist. A warm breeze played with dark and light hair, flickering the candles so that their light danced on the walls and tapestries, bringing them to life.

As the serving elves laid out the first course, Glorfindel, once again, snorted uncontrollably through his nose, wheezing a mighty rush of air over the candle in front of him. Legolas smiled although one eyebrow was arched high into his forehead.

"Glorfindel", said Erestor, frowning and smiling at the same time. "You have been laughing like that all afternoon – you will do yourself a mischief, my friend. What has you in such a state?"

"Aye, pray tell, general", coaxed Celeborn, avid for a good tale.

Everyone's attention was fixed on the warrior, but Legolas simply stuck his fork violently into a succulent mushroom, making the juice inside fly out, hitting Glorfindel and wiping the mirth straight off his face, as the prince chuckled merrily, for he had not meant to do that, it had been proverbial revenge.

However, this only served to convince Glorfindel that the telling of the tale was more than justified, no one squirted Glorfindel of Gondolin with mushroom juice and got away with it, prince or no.

Wiping the offending liquid from his face, he began the story of the children and how they were playing 'Forest Prince', finishing with a, "and off they scampered, squealing into the bushes!" Lo and behold, four simultaneous snorts could be heard even from the gardens below. Galadriel herself had covered her mouth daintily, chuckling her mirth along with the others. By this time, even Legolas had come to see the hilarity of the situation, and added his own childish laughter to the ensemble, laughter which lasted well into the main course.

With dinner finished, the lords ambled over to the sitting area, sipping on a glass of apple liqueur.

Legolas stared into the dancing flames, still unable to forget the deep, suggestive voice that had spoken to him in the gardens, for he knew who it had been, and he wondered at its significance.

THE END

Coming soon: The Protégé IV: Lord of the Forests

Thank you Ziggy and EldarinPrincess for your ongoing support, and Cindy for pointing out those irksome number issues.


End file.
